Kim doesn't know this guy, but apparently he knows her. No, he doesn't just know her, he loathes her. He says she ruined his life and hey, with the amount of people she's punched out before, she wouldn't be shocked if she landed this dude in prison back when this used to be fun .
Guy's got slicked back hair, a thick goatee, and pink, patchy skin. His collar is open like he's trying to emulate Scarface or some shit. Salvatore Cagan, they call him. Just some New York mobster. Grunts like an ox, built like one too. Hank warned her about him.
Kim is kind of pissed off tonight, because she was under the impression she wouldn't have to do jobs like this, but apparently this is what Hank classifies as clean-up . Leftover remnants from an old operation. The agent in charge of all the Cagan stuff croaked a few months back so now it's Kim's problem. Lucky her.
It's fine. She can handle him. She starts off with a sleeping dart to the neck. Cagan hits the floor immediately, the ring of goons yelping and finding Kim's hiding spot in the warehouse immediately. They shoot at her and she leaps, lands onto a metal catwalk and sprints across, all while dropping a shit ton of smoke bombs to the ground floor.
The bombs go off and there's screaming. Laughing to herself, Kim latches her grapple to the bottom rail of the catwalk and swings on down to the ground level, falling into a dropkick that stomps one goon right to the cement.
Kim rolls off him and points her sleepy sleep gun at the three goons she's sort of got sights on through the smoke. She fires fast and very precisely. All three smack the floor. This is exhausting. Easy, but still tiresome. Back in the day, she'd quip like crazy but now she can't even catch her breath.
She's supposed to be killing them though, she was ordered to kill them. But she figures hey, another prison sentence for these assholes should be enough. Besides, she's still pure. No need to make her first kill when it's not necessary.
A fist pushes through the smoke and Kim just manages to dodge it. She sidesteps and lets the guy get in front of her, and then darts in, chopping him right on his collarbone. It's swift and he falls. Kim drops a knee and kicks her gun back up, rapidly searching for anyone who's left. Heart pounding, head throbbing. She's sweating.
The smoke falls and she doesn't see anyone left standing. Kim smiles to herself, puts the guns away, and claps her hands together. Job well done. That was actually pretty easy, probably shouldn't be a surprise. But still, she hasn't cleared house like this in a long time.
Then she feels something really hard ram into the small of her back. She stumbles forward, whirls around, and takes a series of punches right to the face. She falls back again and squints through one eye, her other eyelid swinging shut no matter how hard she tries to keep it open. She's bleeding from her mouth too.
Salvatore Cagan's teeth are clenched so tight it looks like he might bust his own jaw. He sidesteps around her, growling. Apparently the sleep dart wasn't enough for this piece of shit. That's on Kim. She should've known better.
Salvatore clocks Kim in the jaw and she falls backwards, head slamming into a pipe. She collapses on the dusty ass floor, in far too much pain to make a sound. She rasps a silent scream and grabs the pipe with her shaking hand, using it for support while she pulled herself up. She's getting weaker by the second goddamit.
She's not strong enough. Not fast enough. Not smart enough. Not anything enough, she's good as dead if she keeps this up.
Back in the old days, this creep would be tied up by now but in this moment, toe to toe, Kim can't deck him. She's still out of form, and that makes this feel so much worse. Old Kim would chastise her so hard for getting dropped on like that.
Salvatore says something she can't hear over the ringing in her ears, and he lifts his leg with perfect form and kicks her right in the gut. She grunts, and crumples back to the floor. Legs and arms flapping like jelly, she scrambles back to her feet only to get decked again. He runs his fist against his jaw, knocking her to the floor. He laughs at her, and spits on her stupid black suit.
"This is fuckin' stupid," Salvatore clicks his tongue, her hearing finally returning to her left ear. Right ear blocked. Nothing. "You even gonna try, kiddo? I really wanted to enjoy this."
Kim snarls and pushes herself up fast enough that it catches him off-guard. She keeps her head low and rams into his waist, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into some kind of chemical vat. His hands clap down on her and within seconds, he's flipped her around.
He's got a hand on her throat, and she's lost so much blood and energy, she's got seconds to live probably. She chokes and tries to hit him but it does nothing. Everything's fading. She's going pale.
Kim Possible is going to die in a fucking warehouse in New York because some mob boss got her on a bad day.
No, she can't die. That's not why she does this work. She doesn't want to die anymore, she actually cares about something, or at least, she cares about some one .
And fucking Hell does she really want to save the world.
Kim slips her left hand in and holds down the pink hand Salvatore's using to pin her by the chest, and folds in her thumb. She needs to lock his hand into place for a second. Her right hand comes in and she grabs the first finger she can snag from him and cracks it back into his knuckle, and yeah, that bone snaps for sure. He screams, and she finally kicks him off her.
Kim gasps for air, clutching her throat, hand swatting against the metal to support herself. She spits up blood, glaring at him all the while. She's known about that finger snap tactic for years now, but never actually had to use it.
"You fucking bitch," he says, or, something nasty like that, she doesn't know, her ears are ringing and nothing is getting through. She's fading fast. She needs him gone. She doesn't know how though, he's stronger than her and he's livid.
The finger crunch was easy after all, anyone with some nerve can do that. Kim doubts she can hit him with enough force to send him on his ass, especially at this point.
But it starts with letting go of the metal. She can't fight otherwise. C'mon Kim. Get grounded, get serious, fucking fight.
Kim releases the metal reluctantly, her hand falls back to her side. She hunches over. Is she bobbing from side to side or is that just her vision?
Come on, Possible. Floor him.
Kim runs at him and swings at his head. She wants to smash his skull in, but instead he grabs her and flips her over his back. She flops to the ground, scrambling to get up and then he kicks her in the jaw again. She rolls over and spits a wad of dark, dark blood onto the floor. It's sticky, and it's on her teeth. She tries to get back up again.
She's got a gun. An actual gun. That kills. She just needs to get the—
—too late. Salvatore swings at her. Again and again. He pounds her body. He goes so fast she can't feel any singular blow because the impacts just keep moving her. Knees, hips, stomach, chest, face, everywhere. Rapidfire and after enough swings she stumbles backwards. He reaches forward and grabs her the sides of her head and drags her skull into his rising knee.
That's the one that does it.
Kim hits the floor hard, gasping and choking and crying and screaming.
Salvatore kicks Kim onto her back, stomping on her knee to hold her in place. Like a bug, like a wiggling' little bug. He smiles, barely harmed from the fight, and shakes his head. "I'm going to bust your fucking head open."
She can barely move. She shouldn't even be alive after all that. It's sheer willpower keeping her conscious right now. She'll probably die in a few minutes, even if he just stares at her and does nothing, she'll die.
Fuck this. Her whole body is limp. She can't keep going.
Her head lolls to the side, dragging against the cement, and she tries to focus on him. He's so blurry. He's not even far away and he's blurry.
She wills herself to fucking move and gets the gun from her holster and holds it high, aiming directly at his face.
"Ha," Salvatore cackles wryly. "So little Kim Possible is packin' tonight, huh? I'm impressed. You know how to shoot one of those, right?" He spits and it hits her check. She's crying now. "Y'know, you're aiming at the fucking ceiling right now, dipshit. Try movin' a bit to the right, heh heh heh."
Kim narrows her eyes. She can't speak. Her mouth won't move.
And her vision won't work. It's not accurate, he keeps laughing at her, so she closes her eyes. Lets the darkness come over her. That's the only way she can do this. Trust her instincts and line up the shot.
"I bet you're one of those girls who just have a gun on them to scare the shit out of people," Salvatore laughs, and raises his foot. At least, she hears the heel crunch dirt as it rises off the floor. This is it. He's about to stomp her fucking head open.
Come on, Kim. Take the fucking shot. Or die.
He laughs like a real supervillain. "Sayonara, Kim Possib—"
Bang.
The recoil hurts her wrist and it knocks the gun from her hand. It falls on her chest, but fuck, that's heavy. And big. Something else fell on her, it's not—it's not just the gun it's… shit.
His corpse is heavy as fuck, even without a face. She can't push him off, so she rolls out from under him. She grinds her whole body against the ground until he drops besides her and she makes the mistake of looking.
Salvatore's head is just… open. Kim can see bone and falling flesh and blood. There's nothing. She destroyed him.
Fuck fuck fuck. That's it, that's how it feels. She shouldn't—she could have been smarter about this, she could have gotten around it but no she's a straight up murderer now and there are sirens. White light is blasting through the doors. She can't grieve, she can't process, she needs to run.
Kim slowly creaks back up, pulling out her ski mask. There's a metal ladder, get back to the ladder, Kim. Climb. She gets up and hobbles over.
" Possible, for the last time, you need to fucking go! " Hank snaps.
"Wuh?" Kim stutters, body falling against the ladder. Thank God she caught herself. She bunches up her hair and fits the ski mask on. "I… have you been talking to me this whole time, Hank?" She's so weak. Her own body isn't in her own control right now.
" Shit, you need to go to a hospital …"
Kim grabs the ladder tight, and hears the doors bang open behind her. The pigs start shouting, and the light shines past her.
Kim Possible, the Kim Possible, could escape right now. She'd have the agility. But not this girl, not whoever this is. She can't do it. She's dying. These people can help her faster than she can help herself.
"GET DOWN. FROM THE LADDER." they shout and other shit like that. Pigs.
Kim closes her eyes, and whispers into her radio, "Hank, I'm so fucking sorry."
" You'll be okay, " Hank says in a sudden panic. " We'll come for you. Don't lose hope. But I need to disavow you. "
Kim doesn't know what that means. But she drops and puts her hands behind her head, turning around to face the pigs. She can't even tell how many there are, not when they have that stupid light in her eyes like that. It burns her retinas.
"Come to me slowly," one pig says, gun trained on her. "And then get on your knees."
Kim takes one tentative step forward, and then drags her other foot along. Limping. This should be okay. They can keep her alive. It beats the alternative.
There's an explosion. Kim feels heat on her stomach, and then sees this white spark. It's her fucking radio exploding into scrap metal—
—so that's what disavowed means, no one can track her to the Bermuda Triangle now—
—but the pigs get scared. Oink oink. The pigs see fire and scream. One stupidly shoots her in the stomach. As if today could get any worse.
Kim falls back against the ladder and slumps like a puppet. Her eyes close. She's done. It's over.